Walk with me through a year of days: past the seasons, racked and in colour order. Fabrics from silk to hessian, from linen to barbed wire… neatly folded and put away. See how we wore it all, you and I, on this crazy limping catwalk, with sun and stars as our audience.
We felt intimately the itch, the flow, the grip of every garment flung down before us. Even now I know I am bombarded. Yet I stand with you, glad that this wearisome line of pompous relics is nearly at an end. But even gladder that side by side, when the fit was bad or the material uncomfortable, we could laugh. A year of fluff and neon leopard skin that we can burn behind us if we want to.
We’ll just hold tight as we zoom on into the next aisle, last year’s smoke adrift on the air, satisfyingly faint. I can’t wait.
“Use the line
“I am bombarded yet I stand.” From Adrienne Rich, “Planetarium”
in a piece of prose of 144 words or less”